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I will always marvel at the propensity of some humans in our modern-day world to laud artists and creatives of all kinds (painters, novelists, poets, filmmakers, musicians, graphic designers, etc.), as they simultaneously marginalize them and don’t take them very seriously… or care if they eat.

The world seems to be saying: If you aren’t starving, can you really call yourself an artist? But at the same time, if you are starving, how talented and creative are you anyway? And if you are an artist, you must create things because creativity is practically part of your DNA, regardless of whether you can eat, right? Even if you never make a dime, you’d keep creating, right? Because you were just born to create no matter what? And if you don’t, are you really all that creative or an artist at all?

It’s true that society tends to marginalize creative thinkers and artists, especially in the modern age of data and information and AI, where algorithms and machines reign supreme and are infiltrating everything. Even the once coveted title of one of the most revered types of creatives in the modern world, the ‘innovator’, has lost the magic it once held in the early aughts.

But why? Why aren’t creatives and artists revered more and paid more, in general? Is it because we tend to think anyone (or any machine) can learn how to be creative, and that being creative is easy and nothing special? Or is it because we think there are only a select few who are born creative, so why bother trying to be creative, as trying to be creative is a part of one’s destiny and not intended to be a paid vocation?

I think the answer may lie in redefining or reimagining who we generally perceive as being creative, or who we define as being a creator, in the first place. And begin to consider whether they are one and the same.

Why are all artists perceived as creative, for example, but all people who are perceived as being creative aren’t necessarily seen as artists?

Do all creative people create things?

Or are all people who create things creative?

For instance, a creator could create a replica of an existing painting, but should they be considered as being creative when they paint the replica, or as an artist?

And someone could have a creative idea for solving world hunger without necessarily creating anything in the physical world, right?

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Truly, what does it mean to be creative? To be ‘a creative’ or an ‘artist’? What does it mean to be a creator? And where do our answers to these questions overlap and differ?

Pinpointing the answers to these questions may first offer insight into answering the question in the title of this post: Is creativity innate or learned?

I am inclined to believe that creativity is learned. But what or who teaches us how to be creative, and in what areas of life, are uniquely different for each of us. And because of that, we’re all creative in our own unique ways.

Often a person will sharpen their sense of creativity in a certain area out of some type of necessity or longing, as well. For example, some people learn to draw or paint to express themselves because they were silenced in some way, or because they were bored and or awestruck by the world and people around them. Some people learn how to be creative with money because they never had any, or because they’re greedy. And others learn how to create various strategies and plans because they remember (even if only subconsciously) the anxiety or repercussions they endured when there weren’t any strategies or plans. Etc.

In short, I don’t think creativity is anything preordained to a select few individuals. We all have the ability to be creative. However, I do think each of us is extraordinarily creative in our own unique way and that we each learn how to be creative in certain areas based on our unique life experiences, tendencies, and backgrounds.

But I want to discuss this further, as there’s a lot to unpack here.

Today’s Dialogue

Do you think creativity is innate, learned, or both? And why?

P.S. If you’re a psychologist, sociologist, neurologist, or someone with expertise in a related field, I would love to hear more about what you know about creativity.

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Community Notes

"The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." — Sylvia Plath

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• Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

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CURRENTLY READING

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Week 1 (June 1-7) — Part I and Part II Chapters 1- 11

Week 2 (June 8- 14) — Part II Chapters 12- 27

Week 3 (June 15- 21) — Part II Chapters 28- 42

Week 4 (June 22- 30) — Finish Book

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TODAY’S WRITING PROMPT:

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Here are twenty first sentences to kickstart your writing:

1. She stepped back as the arrow launched.

2. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

3. All I knew is that I never wanted to be average.

4. The dog ran out onto the field and changed everything.

5. They all knew the data was false.

6. “Look what I found in mom’s old suitcase.”

7. He looked at me like I was a stranger.

8. The soldier set down the musket and walked away.

9. “F*ck it!”

10. You never know what cards you’ll be dealt.

11. A little sample never hurt anyone.

12. “You really want to settle the score right now?”

13. The coordinates did not match the treasure map.

14. Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.

15. “Did that doll’s eyes just move?”

16. At the base of the mountain, we fell out of love.

17. He preached about a revival of freedom and hope.

18. “Your insinuation is insulting and revolting,” said the senator.

19. She crouched behind a bush, hoping no one saw her.

20. Misery loves company, indeed.

If you complete one of these prompts, share what you write in a comment or chat thread below so we can discuss it. And be sure to share this post with others so they can enjoy some writing inspiration today, too!

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What did you write this week? What felt most alive in your writing this week?

Share something you wrote this week—finished or unfinished. A paragraph, a fragment, a line, or even something you’re still shaping.

Or share some of your writing based on a writing prompt shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post.

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EGALITARIAN BOOK CLUB

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• Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

• Poverty, By America by Matthew Desmond

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• Japanese Gothic by Sunyi Dean

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CURRENTLY READING

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Week 1 (June 1-7) — Part I and Part II Chapters 1- 11

Week 2 (June 8- 14) — Part II Chapters 12- 27

Week 3 (June 15- 21) — Part II Chapters 28- 42

Week 4 (June 22- 30) — Finish Book

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Writing Prompts

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What I wrote below is based on the following photo prompt, which was shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post: 5 Photo Prompts to Kickstart Your Writing: Summer Edition.

By the Lake

The cool lake water swirled around her ankles as she moved her legs back and forth, the centrifugal motion being the only thing keeping her tethered to the dock, their dock. That and the jagged feeling of the indentation of their carved initials on the edge of the post she was leaning against as she absorbed the glass surface before her that stubbornly revealed nothing. Nothing about the coming day, week, summer, or lifetime she’d have without him.

Where they used to conjure their futures, there was only silence and stillness now.

The sun was starting to break the horizon, its orange glow tracing the water like some mystical portal to an alternate universe, reminding her that this place would always exist in some other space now, a past era she hoped he was still able to visit from time to time, wherever he was, because she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not after everything she’d have to face here now, alone.

It wouldn’t be long until summer, her last summer here, officially began. A milestone she thought they’d always go through together until the bitter, tragic end.

Even as she witnessed the increased frequency of his coughing fits and progressively baggier clothes and how the red-pink circumference around the tired rims of his eyes thickened, she never doubted they’d spend their last summer before college here, together. Not once as he was fading away did she doubt his existence in this place, a belief she naively hoped would keep him alive here with her, forever.

He was the stronger swimmer, the more diligent hiker and campfire builder, the one who made the best smores and improvised the best songs on an old acoustic when he thought no one was listening but her. He was the one who was always there to pull her up when she fell and encourage her across makeshift obstacle courses she couldn’t see past or through. And he was the one who always laughed at her jokes and made her feel bright and seen and reinvigorated, like she was the sun, his sun, as he made her forget about all the darkness that waited for her back home.

He was summer to her. Especially here, by the lake, their lake. And always would be, for eternity.

“This place isn’t the same without you,” she said to him, to no one, to the air.

A light breeze grazed her shoulders in response, disturbing a few strands of her loose hair in a way that made her shiver, inspiring her to continue, to attempt to connect, to face her fears like he would.

“Can you believe they finally put me in with the Sparrows this year? No more shabby quarters with ripped screens and nightmare-inducing bugs for me.” She laughed at a fleeting memory. “Oh, and they’re bringing pizza nights back which, I agree, is an abomination to real camping… but still pretty amazing when you really think about it, and probably only happened because Kestrel, the demon counselor, has finally retired. Though now who are we going to—” she stopped herself short as sadness flooded her entire body, then added, softly, “You would have been in with the Eagles. I know that’s where you always wanted to be.”

Her mind wandered off in a bittersweet tsunami of memories as her voice dissolved into the steady sunrise facing her, a sunrise he would never see yet was still a part of somehow. But before she could drown in those memories, she heard a small splash near her feet. She stopped moving her legs and looked down just in time to see a sunfish race away. His favorite fish to catch… and then release.

When the water stilled, the reflection of their carved initials above B.F.F. in the dock gleamed up at her, the sun’s new rays making it sparkle.

“I really, really miss you,” she whispered to it, to him, to no one, to the air, by the lake, their lake, into eternity.

Today’s Dialogue

What feelings does this excerpt conjure for you?

Do you have a nostalgic place you like to visit during the summer?

What did you come up with for this writing prompt?

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© This work is not available for artificial intelligence (AI) training. All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton; Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Community Notes

THIS WEEK’S WRITING SHARE IS LIVE IN THE CHAT

What did you write this week? What felt most alive in your writing this week?

Share something you wrote this week—finished or unfinished. A paragraph, a fragment, a line, or even something you’re still shaping.

Or share some of your writing based on a writing prompt shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post.

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The options are:

• Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

• Poverty, By America by Matthew Desmond

• The Edge of Space-Time: Particles, Poetry, and the Cosmic Dream Boogie by Chanda Prescod-Weinstein

• Japanese Gothic by Sunyi Dean

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CURRENTLY READING

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Week 1 (June 1-7) — Part I and Part II Chapters 1- 11

Week 2 (June 8- 14) — Part II Chapters 12- 27

Week 3 (June 15- 21) — Part II Chapters 28- 42

Week 4 (June 22- 30) — Finish Book

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TODAY’S WRITING PROMPT:

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Do you remember when nearly every romance novel cover had a woman in a flowing nightie or historical costume with exposed cleavage on it? And how there was always a muscular, bare-chested man gripping her torso or carrying her like she was a small child on it? And how they were always frozen in some dramatic pose, eyes closed, lips parted, in front of some hyper realistic natural landscape as their long, windswept hair (they both usually had long, windswept hair) flowed behind them? And how so many people made fun of them by mocking their poses?

Those older romance covers were highly sexualized and clearly marketed toward a specific audience: suburban, middle-class white women who fantasized about being whisked away by a romantic hero to some place far, far, far away (in time and space) from the drudgery of their everyday domestic lives. They were usually centered around the woman on the cover’s fantasy, which was newer at the time, though they were repetitive and often centered around the woman being ‘rescued’ by the ‘hero’ instead of rescuing herself. They also closed a lot of people off to buying and reading romance novels because, let’s face it, there was zero discretion. Wherever romance readers were, people knew exactly what they were reading when they saw these book covers and judged them for it. Not to mention that the covers usually only depicted white, hetero-normative couples and blatant, patriarchal stereotypes.

So in many ways, the move book marketers made from those highly erotic romance covers (‘clinch covers’) to the less raunchy, cuter cartoon covers in the 2010s makes sense. First, they no longer needed to pay for expensive photo shoots with high-profile models like Fabio (who was a big deal in the 90s) to grace their covers, especially once advances in digital imaging technology became more mainstream. Second, cartoon covers began to offer potential readers more discretion when buying and reading romance novels in public and began to appeal to a newer group of readers who were drawn to their brighter, more inclusive images that left more room for potential readers’ imaginations.

The bright, fun designs of cartoon covers on romance novels have proven time and time again (especially at the height of when the trend was taking off) to increase sales for romance novels, especially self-published romance novels, because potential readers find them less intimidating, more inclusive, easier to share across social media (hence the birth of BookTok and Bookstagram), and appreciate their discretion. However, many readers have also said they believe the cartoon covers further infantilize the romance genre, which is already looked down upon (probably because it’s primarily centered around women’s interests and fantasies, and exploring emotional depths— but that’s another post for another day because there’s a lot to unpack there). And some readers claim cartoon covers don’t always accurately convey the context of the story they’re marketing behind their covers, especially when those stories are full of explicit sexual scenes. Additionally, there is worry that more and more authors and publishers are going to use AI to make these cartoon covers in the future.

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I was originally on the side of readers who found the cartoon covers to be infantilizing and wondered how readers would connect the cartoon images to potential swoon-worthy book boyfriends or plots centered around deeper, human connections. And I was downright shocked the first time I read a cartoon-covered romance novel a friend recommended to me in the early aughts that ended up having a ton of spice in it. It honestly confused me for a beat when I first saw its cover, as it didn’t seem to match her synopsis of the book, so much so that I was hesitant to read it, thinking it would be full of cheesy clichés and adolescent tropes. But I trusted her recommendation and read it anyway, inevitably becoming so immersed in its story and characters (who did have depth to them) that I was able to forget all about its cover by the time I was done reading it.

But now, if I’m honest, I still don’t know where I stand on these cartoon covers. On the one hand, I appreciate how they’re more discreet because it makes them less awkward to share with a friend or read by the pool as children wander around, which also ensures more people will read them. (I am not a diehard romance reader by any means but do believe everyone should read a romance novel every now and then, especially men— but again, that’s another post for another day because there’s a lot to unpack there). Yet on the other hand, I do think cartoon characters do make many romance books appear silly and childish on the outside when they are often anything but on the inside, even the funnier and more dramatic ones. And don’t even get me started on the cartoon people on these covers who don’t even have faces…

Though there is this part of me that knows exactly why we’re even having this conversation about the pros and cons of cartoon covers on romance novels in the first place: Fiction women can see themselves in and relate to on a personal level is never taken seriously, regardless of book covers— Even when romance novels gross the highest sales and revenue for publishers of all shapes and sizes, regularly outperforming other genres. Even when the fictional protagonists in these novels are doctors and spies and chemists and lawyers, and hold other traditionally prestigious professions, along with genuinely interesting perspectives and life concerns that include everything from getting promotions and professional recognition to living a more authentic life to innovating something new for humankind to dealing with a parent’s death or a toxic boss or lingering traumas. And even when women make up to around 80% of the total book-buying market. Still, even then, women’s nuanced perspectives and concerns and relationships in fiction are reduced to frivolous distractions that don’t mean anything… at least, when the general public encounters them via a romance novel cover first.

I guess what I’ve come to realize is that whether romance novels have contrived romantic poses full of sexual innuendos or cartoon characters with bright colors on them, people will judge them and misunderstand and misrepresent them in the general public… until they get to know more about what’s really inside their pages. Which may not happen until more of these books are recommended by friends to friends who actually read them, which is probably much easier to do when they’re made easier to recommend via less intimidating and explicit covers. And I am speaking from personal experience here.

Bottom line: Whatever gets more people buying and reading and talking about romance books, and books in general, is good in my book, because then maybe, just maybe, we’ll all be one step closer to understanding and accepting that women’s nuanced perspectives are nothing to laugh at, especially when they are the backbone of the entire book-buying market and represent one of the largest sectors of the human population.

We also can’t forget how cartoon-covered romance novels are opening doors for so many other nuanced and inclusive perspectives on romance and relationships in fiction too— Hello, Heated Rivalry, Get a Life, Chloe Brown, The Kiss Quotient, You Had Me at Hola, and many, many others— which is also a post topic worth writing about and or reading about another day…

Today’s Dialogue

Do you think cartoon covers on novels are a good or a bad thing?

Do you judge books by their covers?

What’s the last romance novel you read? Did you enjoy it? Why or why not?

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© This work is not available for artificial intelligence (AI) training. All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton; Creighton’s Compositions LLC.

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THIS WEEK’S WRITING SHARE IS LIVE IN THE CHAT

What did you write this week? What felt most alive in your writing this week?

Share something you wrote this week—finished or unfinished. A paragraph, a fragment, a line, or even something you’re still shaping.

Or share some of your writing based on a writing prompt shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post.

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EGALITARIAN BOOK CLUB

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• Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

• Poverty, By America by Matthew Desmond

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• Japanese Gothic by Sunyi Dean

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[1] SOURCES

1. Illustrated Covers Aren’t A Conspiracy to Belittle Readers by Jessica Pryde. Book Riot. 11.11.2019

2. Why Does Every Romance Novel Have the Same Cartoon Cover Right Now? by Kayleigh Donaldson. Paste. 2.1.2024

3. Visualizing Romance Novel Covers by Morgan Stevens. Center for Data Innovation. 10. 27. 2023

4. Romance is the Leading Growth Category for US Print Books This Year, NPD Says by Circana. 9.13.2022

TODAY’S WRITING PROMPT:

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There Is No Antimemetics Division by qntm (a.k.a. Sam Hughes) is a compelling high-concept novel that retains many of its mysteries long after it ends and would be a great selection for many Sci-Fi and Fantasy book clubs. But I wouldn’t recommend it to readers who enjoy character-driven novels, or who appreciate clear-cut and easy-to-follow prose and plots, as it includes alternating timelines and identities and physical planes and metaverses that jump around and superimpose over one another. Someone who wants to enjoy this novel will need to remain open-minded yet science-oriented, willing to suspend their current belief systems, and will need to be prepared to pay close attention.

At first, this novel might seem confusing, as there are many details thrown at the reader right out the gate regarding its world of antimemes, their reports, and those who believe they are responsible for their containment. However, about halfway through the novel it becomes clearer that many (or any) of these antimemes aren’t supposed to be understood in concrete or static ways, as they represent the various and malevolent forms various ideas can and might take in various environments that may or may not exist in the physical or conceptual worlds we currently understand and experience— which is obviously hard to pin down.

Questions that will likely arise as you read this novel: How does one pin down an idea or define an idea? Where do ideas exist? How do we know ideas exist? Where do ideas and identity intersect? What makes up an idea (literally and figuratively)? What are the true limits of ideatic space itself? What distinguishes a dangerous idea from an inert idea? Are dangerous ideas possible to contain? If so, how and by whom or what? Is humanity itself an ideatic space or ecosystem? And so on.

One of the most notable achievements of this novel is how detailed its underlying concept of antimemes is, and how that concept is conjured via descriptive imagery in every scene, while simultaneously retaining its underlying sense of mystery that never fades. Up until the very last page, and beyond, readers will incessantly explore what antimemes are, their horrific effects on the world and humans, and how they should and could be handled.

As I was reading this novel, I couldn’t stop thinking of the Matrix series, though it is more metaphysical and abstract in concept than the Matrix in the end. It also offers incredibly vivid and heart-racing scenes with giant spiders and slugs, walls made of fingers, and graphic violence that Horror and Thriller readers will likely enjoy. And it has fast-paced scenes that will keep most readers flipping pages. But it does not have a tidy ending, which might frustrate some readers.

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I also did not find myself rooting for any of the characters in the novel and even found them interchangeable at times, as none of them had relatable backstories or distinct personalities to empathize with and follow. There was a little backstory provided for the Quinns’ relationship, but even then, I wasn’t sure what made them tick as individuals, on an intimate level I could root for and rally behind. And I felt it was taken for granted that readers would care about the plight of the characters as they encountered all these antimemes and setbacks, even while the high concept driving them to act seemed to override their existence and motivations and the plot. Maybe this was intentional? Admittedly, I tend to enjoy character-driven novels best, so I am biased in this regard.

Overall, I would recommend this novel to readers who enjoy detailed, plot-driven high-concept novels that encourage them to think abstractly and who will likely appreciate this Nietzschean quote: “Whoever battles monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster himself. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.”

Here are some notable passages from the book:

“So, maybe the end of the world will be some other division’s problem.”

“‘Organization staff join Antimemetics for a lot of reasons, and one of those reasons is that they perceive the work to be easier. Safer. Lower-stakes. But an idea can end a world. An idea is alive. It can mutate, it can replicate, it can predate on other ideas…and it can hide. And—people deserve to be safe. This is the purpose of the Organization. It’s what we are for. Research, yes, Unknown science, because that helps, but ultimately we are here to keep everybody safe.’”

“The sheer alien scale of the adversary is enough to intimidate most into submission. From a cursory read, U-3125 looks like a nightmare scenario; it’s going to turn human civilization into something beyond Hix’s ability to imagine. But that’s every Monday in this job, and in any case Hix doesn’t have much of an imagination.”

“Adam asks, ‘What is it? The big idea.’ She shakes her head. ‘I can’t tell you. I wish I could. But I won’t know until I get there. And even then, the words don’t exist, and even if they existed, for me to speak them to you would blow you away. It’s too big for us.’ He leans on her, blindly, and says, ‘The seed, though. You can tell me that.’ She looks up at the sky. ‘People shouldn’t have to be afraid, Adam. Of anything. The universe is vast and terrifying and unthinkably dangerous and you deserve to be protected. To be kept safe and sound. Because otherwise those terrible things rule you and fear rules you and you can’t be who you really are. Freedom means no fear.’”

“Humanity is not adapted to withstand the presence of ideas so gigantic. Parts of it could survive, at the far end of probability, but not as humanity; not without being transformed into something incoherently alien.”

“‘But if we have learned nothing else, we have learned this: Humans can walk away from, and forget, anything. Civilization can go back to ‘normal’ after anything.’ He contemplates the archive shelves in silence, for some time. He worries, briefly, that he really does know the truth, and that there is nothing anomalous preventing him from knowing it. That it’s simple denial. But he won’t say that aloud, even here.”

Today’s Dialogue

What are your thoughts on ‘ideatic space’, or the place where ideas exist?

Are you a fan of high-concept novels like this? Why or why not?

Have you read this book yet, or plan to read it soon?

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© This work is not available for artificial intelligence (AI) training. All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton; Creighton’s Compositions LLC.

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JOIN THIS WEEK’S WRITING SHARE when it drops later today in the chat.

What did you write this week?

Share something you wrote this week—finished or unfinished. A paragraph, a fragment, a line, or even something you’re still shaping. What felt most alive in your writing this week?

Or share some of your writing based on a writing prompt shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post.

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CURRENTLY READING

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Week 1 (June 1-7) — Part I and Part II Chapters 1- 11

Week 2 (June 8- 14) — Part II Chapters 12- 27

Week 3 (June 15- 21) — Part II Chapters 28- 42

Week 4 (June 22- 30) — Finish Book

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JULY BOOK

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The options are:

• Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

• Poverty, By America by Matthew Desmond

• The Edge of Space-Time: Particles, Poetry, and the Cosmic Dream Boogie by Chanda Prescod-Weinstein

• Japanese Gothic by Sunyi Dean

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What I wrote below is based on the following writing prompt that was shared at the bottom of a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post: Set a timer for ten minutes. Start the timer and begin writing about rage without stopping until the timer goes off.

Rage is an emotion, so I want to create space for it somewhere, because all emotions need space somewhere, particularly the more volatile ones. But I’m never quite sure where to put rage. I know it should never be left unaccompanied by other more stable and balanced emotions and mindsets for too long, and that it should never be offered nourishment to grow or be neglected for too long either. In fact, I don’t know if there’s anything more dangerous in this world than someone’s neglected rage that was left to fester and become infectious— especially self-centered rage.

And, if I’m being honest, the rage I used to feel in my youth, which was instigated by both perceived and very real injustices, has simmered and faded now. Maybe others who have experienced violence and the cruel indifference of others in their youth know what I mean? That state in life you finally reach when you become too tired to cling to the rage that was instilled in you like it was a lifeline when, by now, you’ve learned far earlier than most, that it’s really only a ticking time bomb that will destroy you before it ever destroys those you originally wanted it to destroy first. Rage is akin to resentment, and both only poison their owners, no one else.

Unfettered and unmitigated rage is more self-destructive than not, which is disappointing for a lot of people to learn, if they’re granted the opportunities to learn such a lesson at all, because many privileged individuals won’t know and may never know what pure rage truly feels like, while many others will be lucky enough to not encounter what pure rage truly feels like until much later in life when they’re already too tired to hold onto it. Sometimes I’m glad to have encountered rage and its lessons earlier in life… but only sometimes, as people tend to expect and embrace hopeful, naive youths, not their opposites, like I was.

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Lack of full-throttle rage at this stage in my life doesn’t mean I don’t care about or understand what’s at stake in this world right now, or that I’m not paying attention to who’s doing what in this world anymore, mind you. No, I haven’t tapped out or buried my head in the sand. Quite the contrary. I’m able to see more clearly what is what and who is who, and what I want to do about it, now that my rage goggles have been removed, or at least wiped clean of excess emotional silt.

I’m actually beginning to think my current post-pure-rage state in life is a simple byproduct of being exhausted from all the rage I’ve felt over the past several decades of my life, mixed with full awareness of how exhausting and unoriginal the repetitive cycles of rage remain in time and history— especially the religious, self-righteous, and misogynistic ones— they’re just turned via different waves of technology.

And maybe I’ve been aware for so long, too long, of the cruel indifferences and injustices of this world, and have cared for so long, too long about them, that somewhere along the way I learned to channel my rage about those indifferences and injustices into formidable, rational action that I can do wherever and whenever I stand. Because that’s the thing about rage most people don’t learn until it’s usually too late for them— if you don’t channel it and guide it where you want it to go, it will blind you and lead you instead. We haven’t been using the clichéd phrase ‘blind with rage’ for centuries for no reason, in other words.

Yet, at the same time, as I said before, I do want to give rage a space somewhere, because I realize how vital it is in informing me of what I care about most on an instinctual level, on a primal level, which is what makes it an important emotion to understand, ironically— its informational value. Tell me what sends someone off the deep end, what really sends them into a rage-filled tizzy, and I’ll be one step closer to telling you what and who they truly care about, and what and who they fear most.

Today’s Dialogue

What do you think of rage as an emotion? Do you think rage can ever be helpful, or do you think it’s always harmful?

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If you’ve been following me long enough, you already know it’s rare for me to claim that anything is strictly ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ when it comes to creativity and approaches to writing. But today I am making an exception because I do believe if someone says they ‘hate’ writing, especially when it’s hard or challenging for them to do, that they’re probably doing it wrong.

Why?

Because writing isn’t supposed to be easy for anyone. Not even award-winning authors.

Writing also isn’t supposed to be something you master one time then stop practicing altogether if you want to remain good at it or enjoy doing it long-term.

But for some reason, that’s what so many people seem to believe these days— that writing is supposed to be easy. And if it’s not easy for them, then they seem to believe it’s some kind of chore to loathe, outsource, or demean, which is problematic for a ton of obvious and not-so-obvious reasons.

If writing were easy, people wouldn’t be using AI to do it for them for any reason, not even for emails, and they wouldn’t be flocking to social media for writing support systems either (online writing communities are some of the only remaining safe spaces on the internet by the way).

Too many people are confusing speed with quality and value these days and think if writing isn’t always fast and breezy for them to do, that they’re doing it wrong. So, they talk themselves out of liking it and doing it and practicing it, kind of like they do with everything else that’s hard to do, because many people also confuse speed with natural talent instead of diligence and practice.

And what do most people do when they are insecure about their perceived ‘talent’ or lack thereof with anything? They either:

1. Demean or undermine the thing they wish they were good at so others stop making them feel bad (even if inadvertently) for not being good at the thing they wished they were good at. Because if they claim to hate something, they believe others won’t think they care about it. (This seems to be the most popular option, at least when it comes to writing.)

2. Avoid the thing they wish they were good at entirely as often as they can, either out of fear or embarrassment.

3. Try to camouflage and mask their skill level with the thing they wish they were good at by trying to cut corners and copy-pasting others’ work. (This is where the appeal and pitfalls of AI, even plagiarism, come in.)

4. Dig in and do the work (practice) so that they become good at the thing they wish they were good at.

Admittedly, however, writing is a weird example to consider here because nearly everyone assumes they should automatically be good at writing in the language in which they already speak, even without regular practice. And that might be a fair assumption, though most practiced writers out there know how false and misleading that assumption is and how it can lead many aspiring writers to quit before they ever really get started, before they really give themselves a chance to practice writing. Or worse, how it can convince novice writers they hate writing because it isn’t as easy as they expected it to be. Or, even worse, how it often leads novice or unpracticed writers to use AI instead of stretching their own writing skills.

I could write an entire book on the various ways writing is different from speaking when it comes to how we process our world and everything and everyone else in it. In fact, many writers, philosophers, linguists, psychologists, and neuroscientists already have.

“The difference between speaking and writing is that speaking is a conversation that vanishes into the air—mostly—and writing is a conversation with eternity.” — Joyce Carol Oates

“Talking is altogether against my nature. Whatever I may say is wrong, in my sense. For me, speech robs everything I say of its seriousness and importance. To me it seems impossible that it should be otherwise, since speech is continuously influenced by a thousand external factors and a thousand external constraints. Hence, I am silent not only from necessity, but likewise from conviction. Writing is the only appropriate form of expression for me, and will continue to be so even when we are together.” — Franz Kafka

“The complexity of speech is choreographic—an intricacy of movement. That of writing is crystalline—a denseness of matter.” — Michael Halliday

“We don’t expect that we would produce different words in speech and writing. [But] It’s as though there were two quasi-independent language systems in the brain.” — Brenda Rapp

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Essentially, writing forces us to slow down and clarify our thinking and feelings and observations simultaneously, even when we write fiction, in a way that speaking does not. And it is challenging to do all that mental and emotional exercise together, especially when it’s done on a routine basis while learning and exploring the ever-evolving limits of language. Which is what makes it hard and why people avoid doing it or think and say they hate doing it.

Not many people like challenging themselves with things they assume they’re already good at doing, or feel they should already be good at doing, but quickly discover they need more practice doing as soon as they try doing it on a routine basis.

And let’s face it, most people nowadays don’t enjoy thinking critically or learning, or don’t set aside adequate time to do so, which writing original work on a routine basis requires.

Writing is an exercise in critical thinking. Synthesizing thoughts, written words, conversations, ideas, and feelings into something coherent for an intended audience requires reflection and intentionality, which takes time and practice to do authentically and intelligibly. There’s no way around that.

As those who have practiced any skill know, there will be times when you feel like a master at your craft and others when you still feel like a novice, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing your craft. But this push and pull behind your sense of mastery is what indicates you’re challenging yourself the right amount, and that you enjoy learning and exploring the process of your craft as much as you enjoy demonstrating your mastery of it, which will always be evolving in a world in which others also practice your craft and contribute to it.

When you are writing, grappling with your own thoughts and feelings alongside others’ thoughts and feelings alongside the mechanics and built-in leniencies of language, which is ever-evolving, is part of the practice. The practice of writing and ‘doing’ language. A practice that never truly ends or can be mastered fully. Not until people stop making up words and meaning and using language itself. Because language is not static, the practitioners of it can’t be either.

To put it bluntly, you cannot enjoy writing if you don’t accept this truth: A writer will never be ‘done’ learning how to write, as being a writer requires only that one continues practicing learning how to write and what to write and when and why they should write, alongside the ever-evolving timelines of their lives and the mechanics and art of language itself, as long as language and how humans choose to use it evolves.

Those who struggle to accept that truth are people who haven’t discovered the patience it requires to sit and play with language on the page long enough to see how fun and rewarding it can be. Or they view writing as a strictly inborn aptitude or something that should and can be mastered in a few lessons, instead of something that requires diligence and practice. And I believe this impatience is understandable to a certain extent in our need-for-speed, distractible age. But it’s also what leads too many people to believe they hate writing when they may not— because how could someone hate something they never really allow themselves to practice and experience fully in the first place? And how could someone hate writing when they haven’t yet learned to enjoy the ups and downs of the writing process, which is what reaps the true rewards of writing?

As they say, practice makes perfect progress, and progress makes a process worth repeating. And writing is nothing if not a process worth repeating.

Today’s Dialogue

What do you think someone means when they say they ‘hate’ writing? Or what would you like to add to this discussion?

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Days of Love and Rage: A Story of Ordinary People Forging a Revolution by Anand Gopal is a striking example of collective journalism with thousands of newspaper and magazine clippings and personal diary entries and letters and video footage and social media posts and activity along with eight years’ worth of original research and two thousand interviews and a half dozen on-the-ground research assistants behind it. It is so thorough and comprehensive that I had to divide my book review for it into two posts. Here are my notes on the first half of the book.

Halfway through Book Three (and the entire book), the spirit of the revolution in Manbij, Syria in 2013 starts to shift away from the Revolutionary Council (not yet two years old) toward a faction of revolutionaries who try to oust the Council for their mishandling of the city’s bread supply and rampant corruption and greed, called the Revolutionary Youth Movement (RYM). And one of the key players behind this faction is none other than Abdul Hadi, who is enraged at how the elitist Council doesn’t seem to care about justice for the poor and uneducated, which leaves him susceptible to the influence of a few ISIS soldiers who come to town and inevitably turn his world and how RYM operates upside down, leading them to believe that religious morality is better than liberal morality.

After the regime’s incessant raiding, skyrocketing bread prices, and the inroads ISIS is able to make due to Abdul Hadi’s help, the Revolutionary Council is ousted from power within eighteen months after ousting Assad’s forces from the city and the Islamic State begins ruling Manbij, installing Repentance Centers and Sharia law, which ultimately leads to such horrific conditions that members of the revolution must leave the city or be executed, along with thousands of other innocent people who are slaughtered and terrorized for years until the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) come in, backed by foreigners and remote interests, until they are ultimately ousted by Syrian rebel forces again in 2024, whose future is still pending.

Gopal continues to follow the narratives of six critical and ‘ordinary’ individuals (see my notes on the first half of this book for notes on them) in the latter half of the book for nuanced accounts of what happened during the beginning stages of the revolution in Manbij (2011-2024), which is still ongoing, while never sacrificing the political and cultural history of Syria and Manbij and their people’s complex narratives of love and rage. Through their intimate and complex personal narratives, this revolution is a little closer to being understood on a profoundly human level, on their collective terms.

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Many with similar stories to Mina Saba, Ibrahim Kasem, and Hasan Nefi, will never see their homes in Manbij again as they once knew them. Others, like Abel Os, are walking scars of the price and rewards of resistance to future generations across Manbij. And those who were unable to overcome their vulnerabilities to let in a more profound sense of hope for a collective future, like Abdul Hadi, will have to live with the extreme consequences of their betrayals and miscalculations. While those like Oday al-Hema will live on in collective memory and spirit, as their bodies will likely never be recovered.

One of the most intense parts of this book is when Gopal gives his first-person account of searching for Oday al-Hema, who was captured and tortured by ISIS in Manbij and went missing after SDF forces took over the city. Gopal spends years tracking down family members, friends, previous cell mates, and dangerous ISIS leaders in refugee camps to eventually learn of Oday’s tragic, unclear fate, sharing Oday’s words and poetry simultaneously, ultimately juxtaposing Oday’s path with his friend Abdul Hadi’s path. Where one man was able to live with the despair and hope of what revolution requires, and willing to sacrifice everything for it, the other was not.

“There was a persistence to Oday’s hope, and that of his comrades, through the ups and downs, that we don’t normally associate with emotion. Hope, for him, was not simply a feeling, like love or rage or any other passion, but a disposition, a trait of character.”

“Abdul Hadi could not live with his vulnerability. He was enslaved by it, and it led him, in ways he could have never imagined, to moral disaster.”

In addition to each of the six personal narratives Gopal offers in this book, I will remember the major lesson the Revolutionary Council of Manbij hopefully learned by now: The perceptions and realities of economic equality and general stability, which usually go hand-in-hand with the cost of bread, can and will influence a revolution, more than anything else. Above all else, people need to eat, and so do their children.

I still think this might be one of the best nonfiction books I end up reading this year and think readers who enjoy deep historical dives with personal narratives and stakes will want to read it.

Here is one of the most memorable passages from the second half of the book:

“Was it all worth it? I [Gopal] came to Manbij because I wanted to know: Would it have been better for people never to have stepped onto the rain-slicked streets that April afternoon in 2011 and demand freedom? Should they have kept quiet, choosing a desolate peace over the horrors that followed? … Looking at everything that’s been lost, was it not now perfectly reasonable to give in to despair? And if not, how was one supposed to resist that temptation?

“This isn’t merely a question for Syrians. In an epoch of crumbling institutions and rising oceans, it’s one we all confront. To persist in the shadow of great loss demands a certain kind of hopefulness— and that, ultimately, is why I’d come: to investigate the limits and possibilities of hope in a damaged world.”

Today’s Dialogue

What do you think hope looks like in today’s ‘damaged world’?

What do you know about the revolution in Syria, and what do you want to know?

Have you read this book yet, or plan to read it soon?

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Days of Love and Rage: A Story of Ordinary People Forging a Revolution by Anand Gopal is around 500 pages long with about 100 pages worth of notes and is as emotionally rich as it is informationally rich, so I decided to split my review up into two posts. This first post will cover my notes on the first part of the book, and the second post will include my final review of the book with notes on the last half of the book.

Gopal has been a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize multiple times for his work in journalism, as well as his work on No Good Men Among the Living: America, the Taliban, and the War Through Afghan Eyes, which is no surprise. He has a talent for deep, investigative work that reaches the true heart of things, and people, as I am learning while reading Days of Love and Rage. Through his amassing of thousands of newspaper and magazine clippings and personal diary entries and letters and video footage, along with eight years’ worth of original research and two thousand interviews, Gopal is able to offer true insight and a behind-the scenes look at the conflict in Syria through the eyes of a small group of rebels and revolutionaries whose lives and paths intersect in notable and unexpected ways.

Book One of five in Days of Love and Rage opens with complex nostalgia as readers are introduced to Ibrahim Kasem, who lives in a tiny village outside Manbij, Syria, near the Euphrates, where he wants to stay with his family and enjoy the land, until government forces come in and seize property and build a dam, flooding the village and killing or displacing nearly everyone. His personal account is weaved in with centuries and decades of outside government and international political and cultural influences on the region, offering readers a nuanced and up-close perspective of how love of home can grow alongside rage and resentment for generations, as the first book does focus on 1963 through 2010.

Next, readers are introduced to Hasan Nefi, a veteran poet and dissident from Manbij who ends up spending 15 years in prison enduring bouts of unimaginable torture, only to end up as a major figure in the revolutionary movement in Manbij and its coordinated resistance once released. The excerpts of his days in prison were strikingly similar to what I read about Alexei Navalny’s detainment in various Russian prisons in Navalny’s memoir, Patriot. (Readers: Beware of graphic and violent episodes shared throughout the book.) Yet his growth as an individual and intellectual throughout the revolution is remarkable.

Then readers are introduced to Abdul Qader Oseb (aka Abel Os), who falls into financial and legal troubles and learns karate when he takes over his family’s merchant cart in Manbij while being subjected to the harsh economic consequences of Bashar al-Assad’s (and his father’s) governance. Through his perspective, readers will see a nuanced look at how desperate economic situations affect vibrant people who are simply interested in charting a path for themselves in life, and how those situations lead them to wander, ultimately revealing how such desperate situations can lead to desperate outcomes with little to no options for survival. His plight is perhaps one of the most relatable ones halfway through the book.

Readers are then introduced to Oday al-Hema, a youth who falls in love while getting caught up in underground encounters that lead to his initiation of, and involvement in, some of the first protests outside mosques in Manbij, which lead to more and more protests. Through his perspective, readers will see how the passions and convictions of youth for what is right and wrong can fuel a revolutionary spirit that can persevere.

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And then readers meet Mina Saba, a mother, wife, and teacher who is central to the women who lead protests that influence many other resistance groups throughout the revolution, who eventually secures women’s involvement in the People’s Assembly in Manbij, all while upholding her shawi values of loyalty, family, hospitality, and above all, honor. She brings a practical and human touch to the revolution, inspired by the philosophies of Martin Luther King Jr. and Ghandi, never wavering in her conviction that women’s voices are necessary in the revolution and that there can be no real revolution without women. Her plight is also incredibly relatable to me, for obvious reasons, and I was content to learn that Gopal did not forget the influences of women in this work.

Then Abdul Hadi is introduced, a friend betrayed by Oday who plays soccer until he can’t escape the pull of the brewing revolution any longer, whose revolutionary spirit is only refueled when he is released from the unbearable conditions of incarceration due to Oday’s betrayal. Through his perspective and relationship with Oday, readers see the complex disagreements behind how revolutionaries sort through the intellectual and emotional determinations of what spearheading a revolution should look like, and the emotional tolls it takes on close relationships.

Eventually, all these individual narratives and personal histories that are commingled with poignant details of the political and cultural history of Syria (especially the city of Manbij) kick off Book Three: The Republic (January 2012- January 2014), of which I am only about halfway through. Yet so far, it is intense and memorable, as it covers the brutal and complex nature of building a republic run by citizens once state forces are ousted from Manbij, not the entire country. Readers will encounter how enemies and former torturers can become strategic allies, how complicated it is to fight for democracy to survive when families who can’t afford bread and are being regularly bombed by the state are barely surviving, and how complicated it is to secure weapons and political support as different revolutionary groups split and form their own coalitions and initiatives that cross domestic and international borders.

It is in these first few chapters of Book Three that readers will be forced to reflect on and reckon with their own concepts of freedom, what it means, and how it should be secured, as prominent revolutionary members work to secure it. Truly, the book is worth reading for these reflections and real-life conversations on what freedom means to ordinary citizens alone.

Overall, I am fully invested in this book and how it offers a strict human lens to civil war without neglecting historical accounts or personal nuance and conflict within those accounts— a true fusing of love and rage. I see it being one of my top nonfiction reads of the year, and so far, I think readers who enjoy deep historical dives with personal narratives and stakes will want to read this book.

Here is one of the most memorable passages from the first half of the book:

“Every political system, whether one of popular consent or of tyranny, is built on innumerable acts of faith— the faith that traffic lights will work, prescribed medicines will heal, evening news tells the truth, enemies are who the authorities say they are. Revolution reflects, if anything, a profound crisis of faith. It ushers in a new mode of understanding, where old solidities crumble, the preordained is exposed as a contrivance, misfortune as injustice. The world, once unitary and complete, has splintered into distinct realms: the kingdom of make-believe and the kingdom of truth. Inhabitants of that second realm find themselves facing the tantalizing possibility that life isn’t merely given, it’s made.” (p.169)

Stay tuned for the second half of the book review for Days of Love and Rage, which will be posted in a few days. [Edit: You can now read the full book review here. ]

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How would you define freedom?

What do you think a successful revolution requires?

Have you read this book yet, or plan to read it soon?

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If you want to know someone’s true personality, who they are when no one is looking, who they really long to be deep down in their soul, have them write a poem about nature or a scene in a play based on someone they have admired and lost or a journal entry about their childhood crush and their recent romantic relationship juxtaposed. Or, better yet, have them write an open letter to the public at large regarding the current state of the world and all its people and their daily affairs and make-shift homes.

Have you decided what they, what you, should write yet, will write yet? Or is it too much to read?

Because you will learn all you need to know about what writers value and despise from their lines, from the adjectives they use to describe places and times, as well as the verbs and pronouns they intentionally omit or include. You will be able to deduce their biggest regrets, their greatest fears and dreams and what they doubt and profoundly believe. You will also know what and who they hold close and keep at bay, and all their darker tendencies tailor-made to deceive and be deceived. But only temporarily. And always in retrospect. Because what is written has been written. And what will be written doesn’t exist yet. Though they are intrinsically entangled.

You see?

The soul of a writer is in what they have written, but what they have written is only a past snapshot of a tiny piece of their unceasingly unfolding identity over time. Even long after their body dies, their words live on and create a life of their own. And so, their writing takes on a soul of its own, to which the writer is forever attached and detached at the same time somehow.

A piece of writing is but an ephemeral window to a writer’s soul as it was, as its physical form in the real world will outlive both its creator’s and long string of possessors’, especially with the invention of the cloud. That is, however, only if it ever came alive long enough to disturb and stir another writer’s world and soul to be possessed enough to create and put pen to page themselves.

Via this symbiotic tradition, a piece of writing’s meaning will always be derived from those who are reading it, using it for their own purposes when and where they are, while that living writing that moves and inspires again and again remains transfixed in a time and place not their own, before that writing soul they’re attempting to capture and see on the page and screen continues to evolve and shift and change on its own journey. Beyond the scope of known temporality and words, ironically.

So yes, essentially, a piece of writing is a window to both the writer’s and the reader’s soul, forever changing shape and simultaneously holding stimulating, life-giving qualities that transcend time and space, in tandem.

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Do you agree that writing is a window to the soul? Why or why not?

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